Meg at Sixteen by Susan Beth Pfeffer

D-day. My mother’s family came from the South, but she’d moved to the Midwest to live with my father, and after his death, she chose to stay there. She remarried after the war, but my stepfather and I never got along, and following my mother’s death, I moved out of his home. Mr. Wilson, a teacher at my high school, took me in. He was a very kind man, and I owe him a great deal. I stayed with him until I graduated high school. It worked out well for both of us, actually. He developed cancer, and I was able to help him during his final months. I don’t know if you know anything about cancer, Miss Winslow, and what it does to you, but it’s a disease best faced not alone. Mr. Wilson had no family, so he left me his estate. I sold the house, and I’m using that money to pay for my college education. It’s not a glamorous story, but it’s the truth, and it’s what got me here. The Sinclairs find me perfectly respectable. My grades at Princeton are A’s, except for one B I got in philosophy. Frankly, I should have gotten an A in that as well, but I didn’t put enough effort into my term paper. I love your niece. I must, or else I never would have bothered to come here today. Do I have your permission to see her again?”
    â€œYou are a good-looking boy,” Grace said. “And I liked your little speech, especially the part about your philosophy grade. But you still haven’t told me a thing about your family, except that they’re all dead. You have no grandparents, no aunts or uncles? You come from nowhere?”
    â€œI come from Iowa,” Nick said. “My mother’s family came from South Carolina. My mother was an only child. Her father was a banker, but he died when I was five, and my grandmother died shortly thereafter. My mother had cousins there, but except for my mother’s funeral, I haven’t had any contact with them. My father had a brother, but he died in the war as well. He was a young man, unmarried. My father’s mother was devastated by the loss of her only two sons, and she died near the end of the war. My father’s father had owned a small factory, but with no sons to run it, the factory was sold. Since he didn’t approve of my mother’s remarriage, he left both of us out of his will, and his estate, when he passed away, went to some cousins of his. They felt a certain amount of guilt about the hand that had been dealt me. Not enough to do anything about it, mind you. Just enough so they chose to cut off all connections with me. I am not besieged by family. My roots are respectable, but I’m alone in this world. Or at least I was until yesterday.”
    â€œI shall have to check all this out,” Aunt Grace said. “I can hardly trust a stranger with my niece, especially one who admits to being without family or money.”
    â€œI have money enough to get through school,” Nick said. “Money enough to buy you flowers. And I had family. You can hardly hold it against me if my parents died. You don’t hold it against Margaret.”
    â€œMargaret has family,” Aunt Grace said. “But it is true, she has no money. If you’ve come digging for gold, I suggest you locate a more prosperous young lady.”
    â€œShe’s only sixteen,” Nick said. “If I were digging for gold, I’d find someone a bit older. I’m not a fool, Miss Winslow.”
    â€œNo,” Aunt Grace said. “I can see that.”
    â€œThen may I have your permission to take Margaret for a walk this morning?” he asked. “We’ll stay on your grounds, if you would feel more comfortable that way.”
    â€œI would indeed,” Aunt Grace replied. “Very well. Have your walk. Perhaps once the two of you look at each other without moonlight this foolish infatuation will end.”
    â€œThank you,” Nick said. He rose from his chair, paused for a moment, then nodded farewell